


Brain Freeze

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, M/M, fluffy af, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 20:32:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5716135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Iwaizumi wanted was to buy the damned book with minimal embarrassment, but the sassy bookstore clerk was having none of that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brain Freeze

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imsosrsly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imsosrsly/gifts).



> I saw it was your birthday and wanted you to have a little extra treat. *squishes Lizz*

Iwaizumi stares at the front of the bookshop with a feeling of Dread.

 _It’s just a bookshop_ , Oikawa had said _. It’s just a book. Everyone reads books._

Well, Oikawa needs to start buying his own damn lit trash, Iwaizumi grumbles to himself as he takes a fortifying breath and all but stomps through the front door.

“Welcome to Under the Covers,” chimes a bored voice, the owner of which Iwaizumi can’t see. “Fiction’s downstairs, non-fiction is upstairs, children’s stuff and manga are in the basement.”

Iwaizumi stops mid-stride and looks around for the attendant he knows he didn’t imagine hearing. “Um, I’m looking for something in particular,” he says tentatively. “Do you have that one book?” He blushes when the voice scoffs at him. “You know . . . Fifty Shades of Grey?”

There is a soft chuckle and a long, languid squeak as a head pokes up above the tall counter near the door from the reclined office chair behind it. The owner is a guy with soft, curly black hair, the prettiest green eyes Iwaizumi’s ever seen, and a smirk that would make an angel cry. “Oh, you are so whipped,” said angel comments.

Expression darkening, Iwaizumi crosses his arms and glares at the shop clerk. “Besides that being utterly untrue, it’s also none of your business. Now, do you have it or not?”

The clerk, whose nametag he can finally see as saying ‘Akaashi Keiji’, gives Iwaizumi a shit-eating grin and answers, “Well, _I_ have it. The shop doesn’t, but I don.” He holds up the paperback in his hand and waves it. “For your girlfriend?”

Iwaizumi thinks about Oikawa dressed as a girl and dies a little inside. “No!”

“Boyfriend?”

“Even more no!” Iwaizumi hugs his torso, now fairly certain he knows why Oikawa doesn’t want to make this purchase himself. If all bookshop clerks are this direct, it’s no wonder most people just buy this shit online. “So,” he growls, “are you going to sell it to me or not, Akaashi-san?”

Akaashi reels backwards in his chair once more, considering Iwaizumi with eyes that make him feel like he’s standing there without a stitch of clothing. In a way, he reminds Iwaizumi of Oikawa when he is assessing a player on the court. Akaashi just looks like a guy who _knows_ things.

“So, before I say yes or no, tell me why you want to buy it.”

Iwaizumi reddens. “I don’t want it at all. The movie trailer alone made me want to take a shower. But my best friend . . . he really wants to read it, his birthday is coming up, and he’s too embarrassed to pick it up on his own.”

He almost thinks he’s hearing things at first, but slowly, surely, Iwaizumi knows he’s being laughed at. It starts as a soft chuckle and erodes into a deep belly laugh. “Oh my god,” Akaashi wheezes. “Why would anyone want to read this trash when they’ve got you and your gorgeous arms to look at?”

Eyes bulging, Iwaizumi takes an involuntary step back at Akaashi’s blunt come-on. “You are literally the rudest person I’ve ever met!” Iwaizumi snaps before amending, “Well, second rudest, if you count the person I’m giving the book to.”

Shaking his head, Akaashi wipes a tear from his eye and drags his gaze over Iwaizumi from head to toe. “Only to people I have to save from literary crime. Trust me, you can buy pulp romance for a few hundred yen that is better written than this trash.”

“Oh?” Iwaizumi tilts his head to the side. “Then why are you reading it?”

Akaashi gives him that _smirk_ again. “I make it a policy to never trash books I haven’t read, but I haven’t been this seriously disturbed since Twilight happened.”

Remembering the movies Iwaizumi had been dragged to see in his tweens, he shudders. “Fuck, is it really that bad?”

“Worse. So, so much worse.” Akaashi sets the book on the counter. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll make you a deal.” Nudging the book towards Iwaizumi, he says, “I’ll _give_ you my copy of the book, but on one condition.”

Iwaizumi quirks a brow.

“Have coffee with me after my shift is over.”

The hand Iwaizumi had extended to take the book veers violently left when he processes Akaashi’s request. “You want a _date_?” Righting himself, Iwaizumi glares at the book in annoyance and then directs his stormy gaze on Akaashi. “How do you even know I swing that way?”

“Only one way to find out,” Akaashi says lightly before leaning forward. “Do you want to have coffee with me or not?”

Iwaizumi freezes. On one hand, everything south of his neck is very interested in Akaashi, noting how his hands quake just a little every time Akaashi says something in that soft rasp of a voice, or that damned smirk that could fell a giant in a minute or less. His whole skin tingles at the very thought.

“Fine.” Iwaizumi balls up his fists and stands up a little straighter, not just a little annoyed to find that, when Akaashi stands, he’s the taller of the two. “Give me the book, and I’ll be back after your shift is up.”

And there is that laugh again. “Oh, Bara-san, you can’t really think I’m that stupid.” Akaashi snatches back the book. “I’ll give it to you when we’re done. Payment for services rendered.”

“What the hell kind of service do you think I’m going to do on you?” Iwaizumi hisses.

Akaashi’s eyes divert to Iwaizumi’s arms, which are exposed in his sleeveless running shirt. However, the experience leaves Iwaizumi feeling far more naked than he really is once again. “Existing,” Akaashi finally says. “Just . . . be pretty for an hour, and that is quite a service.”

Furiously coloring, Iwaizumi chokes, “What time?”

“Seventeen-hundred,” Akaashi says as he lounges back in his chair and resumes thumbing through the book. “So, you’ve got two hours. Use them wisely.”

The first ‘wise’ course of action Iwaizumi takes is barreling out of the bookshop and taking the next train home.

An hour and forty-five minutes later, Iwaizumi stares up at the sign above the door once again, this time in long sleeves and a few extra layers of clothing despite the lingering July heat. He wears them like armor against Akaashi’s penetrative gaze, and this outfit has the distinction of being the nicest thing he owns that isn’t meant to be worn to a funeral.

Right on the hour, Akaashi emerges from the shop, flipping the sign from ‘Open’ to ‘Closed’ and locking the door. He turns to examine Iwaizumi and frowns. “You’re going to die of heat stroke.”

Though the beads of sweat on his brow betray him, Iwaizumi quickly says, “I’m fine.”

“You certainly are,” Akaashi quips, immediately turning up the temperature inside Iwaizumi’s button-up a few unneeded degrees. Admiring his handiwork, Akaashi holds out an arm. “So, where to?”

Not sure what else to do but comply, Iwaizumi takes the arm and shrugs. “I don’t know. What’s good in this area?”

Akaashi leans into Iwaizumi’s shoulder, again causing a rude spike in body heat as he murmurs, “I know just the place.”

In a mere five minute walk, Iwaizumi find himself entering a hole-in-the-wall coffee place he would miss without knowing where it is. The aroma, however, once they pass the threshold tells Iwaizumi that he’s glad he left the selection up to Akaashi.

“Knew you’d like it,” Akaashi comments, and Iwaizumi feels stripped all over again. “I recommend the macchiato usually, but since it’s so hot, I think today should be a freeze kind of day.”

At Iwaizumi’s blank look, Akaashi gapes at him. “Sheltered child. No wonder you hang out with people who are too afraid to buy a damn book.” He turns to the barista and gives a polite smile Iwaizumi cannot associate with Akaashi for the life of him. “We’ll have two —” He turns to Iwaizumi. “You’re not allergic to anything, are you?”

“Just cats,” Iwaizumi offers, still reeling over Akaashi’s complete personality reversal.

“Two caramel frappes, please. One with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles.” Akaashi gives Iwaizumi a once-over. “Do you want — of course, you do.” To the barista, he amends, “Make that both with whip and sprinkles.”

As the barista slinks off to comply, Akaashi leans towards Iwaizumi and mutters in his ear, “I like whip. A lot.”

Face now flaming, Iwaizumi wonders how he’s going to survive an hour with Akaashi, who is more determined and predatory than his best friend. He never thought he would be outclassed in that area, but he is sorely mistaken at this very moment.

“Relax.” Akaashi nudges Iwaizumi with an elbow. “I’m just kidding. I’m not going to eat you.”

“So you say,” Iwaizumi croaks, his face still burning hot and bright red.

Not ready to go back into battle with Akaashi’s sharp tongue, Iwaizumi fidgets until the barista returns with two giant frozen treats and to collect payment. Iwaizumi thrusts a couple of thousand-yen notes at the cashier and hisses, “Keep the change!” before taking a long, frigid drag off of his drink.

Pain so intense it makes tears spring to the corners of his eyes clamps down on the entirety of Iwaizumi’s skull, throbbing in time with the slurp of liquid agony dumping down his throat. Breaking off, Iwaizumi pants as he tries to dispel the intense brain freeze, only to find Akaashi laughing at him. “Are you really this terrible, or am I just special?”

Akaashi puts a warm hand on Iwaizumi’s cheek and shakes his head. “I can’t believe you just did that.” He takes a mild sip of his own drink before he puts a thumb up to Iwaizumi’s chilled lips. “Open your mouth.”

“What? No!” Iwaizumi sputters before he takes a step back. “What are you doing?”

His thumb finding its way back to Iwaizumi’s mouth, Akaashi says, “Trying to fix your brain freeze. Now, open your mouth, and try not to bite my finger off.”

Unable to do anything through the pain in his head but comply, Iwaizumi drops his jaw and subjects himself to whatever weirdness Akaashi has in store. His eyes widen as he watches Akaashi give his thumb a cursory suck before putting it into Iwaizumi’s mouth, planting it solidly on the roof.

Slowly, but surely, the ache in his brain leeches out as his palate warms under Akaashi’s thumb, and just when it becomes bearable again, Akaashi removes his hand and pats Iwaizumi’s cheek. “See? Not going to eat you.”

“How did you do that?”

Akaashi huffs. “Brain freeze happens when your palate gets too cold. Warm it up and it stops. Since you slurped so much, you couldn’t really use your tongue to do it.” He gives Iwaizumi a pitying look. “You must have suffered as a child.”

Iwaizumi opens his mouth to retort but promptly snaps it shut when he remembers that he indeed does have a long, storied tradition of suffering at the hands of frozen treats. “Shut up,” he grumbles as he, more gently this time, gives his straw a pouty suck.

“You’re cute when you make that face.” Akaashi sighs and sips his drink. “You know, I don’t actually remember getting your name.”

“Hajime,” Iwaizumi blurts before he mentally kicks himself. Why he offered his given name and not his surname, he doesn’t know, but it might have something to do with the warmth pooling in his belly as Akaashi’s mouth spreads into a smile.

“Hajime,” Akaashi repeats breathily as he draws a single line across Iwaizumi’s bottom lip, very much like the single horizontal line that is his kanji. “Simple, strong, alpha. It suits you.”

Breath hitched in his chest, Iwaizumi can only watch as Akaashi regards him closely. It is a while before he can scratch out, “I don’t know what your name means.”

At this, Akaashi snorts. “What’s in a name?” he says in English. “A Frappuccino by any other name would taste as sweet.”

“Your accent is really good,” Iwaizumi answers stupidly before closing his eyes and sighing. “Sorry, that was the lamest thing that’s come out of my mouth in my entire life.”

Akaashi’s cheeks pinken as he looks away. “I can see why your friend keeps you around. You’re so adorable it’s almost painful to watch.”

Iwaizumi coughs while he is sipping at his straw, cheeks bulging as he tries to keep from spewing his drink on Akaashi’s face. When he collects himself, he says between gritted teeth, “You are the most embarrassing person I’ve ever met.”

“Just trying to keep you interested,” Akaashi answers, polishing off the rest of his drink. “Now that I know the competition a little better.”

“Huh?” Iwaizumi raises a brow. “What, you mean Oikawa?”

“Your friend who wants the book, I assume?”

Iwaizumi nods. “Why would you think he’s competition?”

Akaashi sighs. “Because if he wasn’t, you wouldn’t still be here while I’m deliberately trying to antagonize you. I’m pushing every one of your buttons, and you’re just sitting back and taking it like a champ.”

“What . . . what the everlasting hell are you talking about?” Iwaizumi can’t even pretend to know what’s going on anymore.

“I like you,” Akaashi says simply. “I liked you from the minute you walked into the bookshop, and the more you talked, the more I wanted you.”

Blinking at this gush of ridiculously contradictory information, Iwaizumi simply demands, “How does that make any sense?”

Shrugging, Akaashi answers, “I needed to know you were my, um, _type_ and to make sure your gorgeous body isn’t wasted on some brain-dead dudebro who actually thinks watching ‘the movie’ is a replacement for a good book.”

“So, all that shit you gave me about wanting the book was a test?” Iwaizumi doesn’t know whether to be offended or relieved, but the tremulous smile on Akaashi’s lips makes him think the latter might be the case. “Well, I usually stick to YA stuff, truthfully. It’s honest and fun, and it’s got good life lessons. That and sports manga.”

Akaashi rolls his eyes. “Of course you’re a jock. I had my fill of those in high school.”

“Being a jock got me into college!” Iwaizumi snaps, flinching when Akaashi does. “Sorry. I just meant that my family couldn’t afford a great education for me, but my sports scholarships did a lot to help out. If not for volleyball, I’d be stuck back in Miyagi washing windows for a living instead of going to a high-rated university for doing what I love.”

“Be still my heart,” Akaashi says, a hand fluttering dramatically over his chest. “And to think someone like you is single!”

All Iwaizumi can do is chuckle. “You’re a weird guy, Akaashi. Your sense of humor is definitely out there.”

“I try,” Akaashi says before stealing Iwaizumi’s drink and snaking a sip. “So, how about it, Hajime-kun?”

Iwaizumi is about to ask ‘about what’ before he mentally kicks himself. “I might be interested in a number.”

However, instead of pulling out his phone, Akaashi walks back to the cash register and returns with a pen with plastic flowers plastered to it. He presses up against Iwaizumi’s back as he leans over his shoulder and writes his name in neat, even kanji and his phone number. “Don’t wash this hand until you know it by heart,” Akaashi breathes into his ear, making Iwaizumi shudder from head to toe.

But as soon as it is there, the excess warmth is gone as Akaashi stands up. His hand dives into his messenger bag and takes out The Book and plops it on the table. “For services rendered, Iwaizumi-san.” With that, he plants a kiss on Iwaizumi’s cheek and whisks out the door, only lingering long enough to return the borrowed pen.

Iwaizumi’s written-on hand reaches up to touch the still-moist place where Akaashi had kissed him, and he stares at his rapidly melting drink before he jerks into action and keys Akaashi’s number into his phone as a simple ‘Keiji.’

 

An hour later, Iwaizumi returns back to the dorm suite he and Oikawa share with two other guys, and the latter looks up expectantly from his Physics coursework. “Did you get it?”

“You know,” Iwaizumi scolds, “demanding your birthday presents a week ahead of time is bad form, even for dumbasses like you. Besides, who said I got you anything at all? You’re an adult, not nine.”

Oikawa sticks out his tongue. “So sour, Iwa-chan! All I ask for is something simple, and this is the thanks I get for my humble request.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Iwaizumi grumbles as he flips the book into Oikawa’s lap. “Just . . . never make me see the movie for this.”

“Why?” Oikawa looks at him suspiciously. “Did you read it?”

Shuddering involuntarily, Iwaizumi answers, “Yeah, some of it on the ride home.”

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa clutches the book to his chest. “It’s supposed to be a thing for Tomoka-chan to think I’m not a virgin!”

Iwaizumi can’t help but laugh until he’s leaning against the wall, wheezing. “You are . . . you are never going to get laid like that, Oikawa. Just be yourself, and not that oily little hipster you pretended to be around your fangirls in high school.”

With a harrumph, Iwaizumi looks down at the name and number still written on the back of his hand and smiles softly. “You never know what’ll happen.”


End file.
